


Volunteering for Entirely Selfish Reasons (and then your sister has the nerve to be right)

by BuzzCat



Series: (Belated) Cablanca Week 2020 [3]
Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Community Theatre, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25152736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuzzCat/pseuds/BuzzCat
Summary: Marta is volunteering at the community theatre to appease her sister's insistence that Marta needs to be in a place to meet men, attractive men, not geriatrics from work. But isn't it funny how worlds collide, and how sometimes those worlds bring friends
Relationships: Benoit Blanc/Marta Cabrera
Series: (Belated) Cablanca Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819165
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Volunteering for Entirely Selfish Reasons (and then your sister has the nerve to be right)

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 - Alternate Universe
> 
> inspired by (but now bears almost no resemblance to) the AU - the “i work at a movie theatre and i’m cleaning up after the movie is over and you’re the only person left because you’re ugly crying with popcorn over your lap” AU

It had been Alice’s idea. Of course, it had been Alice’s solution to something only Alice had decided was a problem, but at a certain point Marta had accepted the best way to handle her headstrong sister was to either get on board or get out of the way, and in this particular situation, getting on board and getting out of the way were the same thing.

Marta was single. She didn’t mind it, honestly. She worked long hours and when she came home, she liked to come home to the quiet. She had a couple fish—Edgar and Allan, as named by her favorite patient—and coming home to just the fish was nice. No one ever ate her leftover dessert, she had sole control of the television remote, and the whole bed was hers. Marta had decided being single could be nice, might even be better than dating.

Alice, six-months married to a very kind Kurt Wagner, did not see it that way. Alice watched her sister work hard and go home to an empty shoebox of an apartment—paying rent on a single income was painful to watch—and decided Marta needed better. And this wasn’t meddling, no matter what Marta said. This was just one sister watching out for another, this was _caring_ , Marta, not meddling.

Marta, who knew the Venn diagram of Alice’s ideas of caring and meddling was objectively a circle, held out as long as possible, until Alice issued an ultimatum: either Marta found a hobby where she could meet men, _cute_ men, not the geriatrics at work, or Alice was going to make Marta a Tindr account. Alice said a Tindr account would be a kindness. Marta thought it sounded like a circle of hell.

So, Marta got a volunteer position taking tickets at the community theatre. Alice deemed it an appropriate place to meet men, the hours were volunteer based as long as Marta could help out once per production (translating to once a month or so), and on the nights she worked, they let her watch the show for free. Marta wouldn’t tell Alice, because it would only encourage her, but it was nice to go and see the shows. It was not the dating free-for-all Alice seemed to think it was (mostly because the theatre was limping along on volunteer hours alone, kept afloat mainly by the aging thespians in the area and a few students with grand aspirations), and that suited Marta just fine. Occasionally someone came through the theatre, someone who held the door for strangers and said ‘have a good evening’ after the performance, and they seemed kind enough that Marta would wonder. But then they’d leave, and Marta would remind herself of all the good things about being single.

It was a rainy night and Marta was hoping someone who could inspire wonder would come through, just to break up the day. It had been a long shift at work and the theatre had called as soon as she was off work, asking if she could cover for a volunteer who’d gone home to handle a roommate emergency. Marta knew she was at the bottom of the call list for last-minute volunteers, they’d told her as much when she mentioned she was a nurse who often worked late hours with long commutes from at-home visits. If they were calling her, they had to be truly desperate. So, Marta had gone home, showered and changed in fifteen minutes, dropped some flakes in the fish tank, and was back out before the car had even cooled down, at the theatre just in time for the doors to open. Marta didn’t resent volunteering, she honestly didn’t, but ticket-taking had never seemed as boring as it did when she had just narrowly missed the chance to be at home instead.

She was just about to step inside, catch the performance from the back of the theatre and hope it improved her mood, when she heard a welcome yet unexpected voice come through the door.

“Marta, my dear!”

Marta turned, a smile already on her face. “Harlan, what are you doing here?”

He stepped up and Marta hugged him. He had been one of her consistent patients for months now. Never emergencies, just medication to be given, then a game of GO that couldn’t wait for another opponent, and from there they’d become friends. He’d been the one to suggest the theatre as a potential solution to Alice’s ultimatum.

“My dear girl, don’t you look lovely this evening.”

“You clean up nicely yourself,” Marta said. It was only then that she realized Harlan had a friend with him, a blond man in glasses wearing a thick coat.

Harlan stepped back, gesturing his friend forward. “Blanc, I’d like you to meet Marta Cabrera, the sunshine on a dreary day. Marta, this is Detective Benoit Blanc, the son of an old friend.”

“A pleasure, Miss Cabrera.” Blanc’s voice was a smooth slow syrup that curled her toes. She could only hope the low lighting of the hallway covered for the blush rising in her cheeks as she shook his hand.

“Likewise, Detective Blanc.” She looked him in the eye, intending to ask if this was his first time to the theatre, and her thoughts stumbled. No one had eyes that blue. How did anyone have eyes that blue?

Harlan, thankfully, covered for her stunned silence. “Blanc did me the favor of coming to town for a couple days, sort out some details for a book I’m writing, and I thought I’d show him a night on the town.” Harlan said with a wink. The community theatre was kept alive on nostalgia, which meant rose-colored glasses were included in the price of admission and necessary for the enjoyment of any production.

Benoit looked to be hiding a smile even as he said, “My father has fond memories of this theatre and informed me that if I ever visited town, I was not allowed to leave until I’d seen at least one performance.”

“It’s an evening to remember,” Marta said. The truth; memorable didn’t necessarily mean good.

The lights dimmed and came back up; the show was beginning soon. Harlan handed Marta the tickets and she thought she caught something mischievous in his tone as he turned to Detective Blanc, “I’m going to get the last good seats. Blanc, hold on to the ticket stubs, will you?” And Harlan was in, moving fast enough Marta raised an eyebrow. Mischievous indeed.

She turned to Detective Blanc, holding out the stubs. “Enjoy the show.”

“You too.”

His knuckles grazed hers as he took the tickets. His hands were warm, the skin soft. Marta knew she was blushing a deep red.

He tucked the ticket stubs away and held the door for two students sneaking out for a last-minute snack. Marta stared at the door as it swung closed, still thinking of those blue eyes and soft hands. Benoit Blanc had made her start to wonder.

**Author's Note:**

> *You know that thing, where the waiter says ‘have a good meal’, you say ‘you too’, and then you go through the five stages of grief because that’s not how this works? Benoit is doing the same thing at the end of this.
> 
> *The musical they’re watching is ‘Follies’ because in the movie, when Blanc is singing in the car, he’s apparently singing a song from ‘Follies’. 
> 
> *Yes, Harlan is the patient who named the fish.
> 
> *I don’t actually have a grudge against community theater, it just felt like something Harlan would be just a bit smug about (I literally minored in theatre, I’ve done my Time).


End file.
